


give me your heart and your hand (and we can run)

by d4nflint



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Shameless AU, i don't know how to tag or use ao3 tbh sorry, kind of but not really???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d4nflint/pseuds/d4nflint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The younger must take his silence as a request for him to go away (which it kind of was) for he makes a move to get up, to leave, but then Ashton's opening his mouth and saying "stay" like he'd meant that all along.</p><p>And Luke stays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me your heart and your hand (and we can run)

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a Shameless AU but not really i mean idk. just. eh. all mistakes are mine, i do not own any of the people in this story and yeah. go easy on me, i've never written a proper slash fic thing before.  
> also um lauren irwin is the same age as luke in this even tho i honestly have no clue how old she actually is yup okay
> 
> title from Pierce The Veil's Million Dollar Houses (The Painter)

There's no such thing as privacy in the Irwin household. Their house is already tiny as shit – Ashton's got to _share_ with Harry and he's fuckin' twenty, and _Lauren's_ the one who's got her own room – and it's way too crowded because their mum's a hoarder. A drunkard and a hoarder who'll go batshit _crazy_ if she catches you even _trying_ to throw out something. It's not butterflies and ponies or some shit in the Irwin household.

The door's pushed open – and Ashton _swears_ that he locked it, but whatever – and he scrambles to close his legs as he shouts out an " _oi_!" to his little sister who's just staring at him with a deadpanned expression whilst chewing gum. "Lauren, can you – _fuck off_?" He hisses, pulling the fag from between his lips.

"No." She replies bluntly, leaning forward to pluck the fag from his fingers. He makes a sound of frustration – some cross between a growl and moan of annoyance – and reaches out to grab it back, but she's already putting it between her lips. "Luke's still not back yet, and it's all your fuckin' fault. So go find him. 's _because of you_ that he's even gone."

"The _fuck_ do I care about _Hemmings_?" He spits out the name with distaste, pulling a face, even, but then his heart's racing in his chest. He fucking hates that his body's reacting to that _damned_ name, but it is – _he_  is. Ashton doesn't get why, though, because all Luke and him are, and will ever be, are fuck buddies. Luke knows this – Ashton had made it pretty damn clear when they'd started hooking up.

But Ashton notices the damn heart-eyes Luke gets when the younger thinks Ashton's zoned out and doesn't notice it. Ashton _notices_. Luke looks at Ashton like he'd hung the moon and the stars and the entire fucking galaxy, which doesn't make sense because all Ashton is is a high school dropout and fuck-up.

Lauren snorts, shaking her head. "You fuckin' care, 'course you do. Go find him. He's my best friend and I don't need you fucking him up anymore than you already have," is all she says before she's turning on her heel and walking out the bathroom, the cigarette still balanced between her fingers as she sashays away, not even bothering to shut the door.

"For fuck's sake," Ashton mumbles under his breath, the heel of his palm going to rub at his eye. He reaches out then, trying to shut the door, but it's too far. "Are you fucking – Lauren! _Lauren_!"

\- - -

Ashton walks into the Hemmings' household like he fucking lives there, not even bothering to knock or whatever. Jack's the only one in the kitchen and he's drinking a cup of coffee whilst flipping through the newspaper. He looks up, eyebrow arching at Ashton's appearance in the kitchen.

"Your brother around?" 

"Thought he was with you?"

Ashton lets out a single mirthless laugh. "He's not. Lauren says he's run away, or some shit like that. Seen him then?"

Jack's eyes widen the slightest bit. "If he's missing then why the fuck aren't you out lookin' for him?"

Ashton outstretches his arms on either side of him, the most unimpressed look on his face. "The fuck does it look like I'm doing? You seen him or not?"

Jack glares at him. "Obviously not," he scoffs. "If he's run away, 's your fucking fault. Stop fucking treating my brother like a piece of shit, you piece of shit."

Normally Ashton would be all for hitting Jack right in the face - Luke's always been close to him and he'd been the first that Luke came out to. Luke said something about hooking up with Ashton and Jack had just smiled, said that "the best thing about falling in love with Ashton Irwin was that you could always find better" and Ashton's fucking bitter about it, till this day - even if he's not fucking  _in love_ with Luke, or some shit. 

Ashton huffs out a breath of annoyance, running his fingers through his curly hair. He shakes his head, not even bothering to fight back, turning on his heel. "Fuck you, Hemmings."

"What - one not enough for you?" Jack calls after him.

Ashton really  _fucking_ hates him.

\- - -

Ashton knocks back the shot of tequila in his hand, wincing as it travels down his throat. Tastes like one of the most cheapest fuckin' shite he's ever drank – and Ashton's drank some cheap alcohol before. He _paid_ for this shite, though. He narrows his eyes over at the bartender, who _smirks_ and then fucking _winks_ like he _actually_ believes that Ashton's trying to flirt with him or summat. What he gets for going to a gay club to look for Luke, he concludes.

His eyes dart around the club. Strippers giving lap dances, a couple pole-dancing, some just making out and grinding on each other and looking like they're about to blow their load in their pants. His eyes finally land on one of the pole dancers – blond hair put up in a quiff, thin black ring sitting on the corner of pink lips, dressed in a pair of shiny underwear that Ashton's pretty sure is actually covered in _glitter_. Ashton's known Luke for a couple of years, since he's Lauren's best friend and all, and they've been fucking for a few months, so Ashton knows that Luke's not exactly the most elegant of people. He's clumsy as shit, is what he is.

But now, he's not. He's rolling his lean body and thrusting obscenely towards the old men with balding hairlines and wedding rings on their fourth fingers. Most of them just watch, throwing bills on the stage that Luke would then bend down in an over-exaggerated manner for show to pick up and stuff into the waistband of his fucking glitter underwear.

Then there's this one man who's got a tenner or summat in his hand and he's reaching out, about to _touch_ Luke and. Ashton's up before he even realises that he's stood up and stomped over to where they are. The perv's hand is millimetres away from Luke's crotch and Luke doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop it, but Ashton is. Ashton yanks his hand away from Luke, tugging the man away and then shoving at his shoulder as he _throws_ the man's hand down like it's scum. It is. _He_ is.

"That hand go anywhere _near_ that crotch and I will break _every fucking bone_ in your hand," Ashton hisses before he's shoving at the dude's shoulders.

The dude stumbles back, blinking blearily at Ashton. "Whatever," he scoffs before turning and going to fucking molest some other kid, probably.

"What are you doing here?" Luke's voice is close, right by his ear, and Ashton swivels around, eyes slightly wide before he composes himself to the face of indifference he's mastered. Luke's standing so close to him, breathing hard, and he's taller so he's got Ashton's head tilted up slightly as he looks at the younger's face – and he's got fucking _eyeliner_ around his eyes, fucking _Christ._

"Came t' look for you," Ashton replies easily, tone the epitome of boredom. "Your family's fuckin' worried about you, Hemmings."

Luke looks away at that, eyes darting to the ground. Then he's composing himself, shrugging. "Tell 'em 'm fine, then." He says and then he's turning, about ready to walk off, but Ashton's reaching out to wrap his fingers around the younger's wrist. Luke freezes at the contact, turning to look at where their skin is touching with wide eyes, but Ashton's withdrawing his hand like the touch burned him. (It sort of did.)

"I promised 'em I'd bring you back. Come on." Ashton says. He hadn't promised anyone _shit_ , but how else is he supposed to explain that _horrible_ feeling in his gut at the thought of leaving Luke to potential molesters and grinding on strangers? He doesn't even fucking _understand_ what he's feeling.

"Can't leave," Luke mumbles. "Tell 'em 'm fine," he repeats and then he's speed-walking away before Ashton's got the chance to reach out and grab onto him again and – fuck it all, really.

\- - -

Ashton's got his knee bent, foot pressed flat against the brick wall outside the club. He's not waiting for Luke – at least, that's what he tells himself. He's just. He's sticking around. That's it.

There's a cigarette dangling from his fingers and it's burning down to the filter but Ashton's the type of person to savour every drag of one, so he's still got it burning and he's still bringing it to his lips for one last inhale. He drops the stick to the ground as he exhales slowly, the smoke from the cigarette mixing with the cold of the air. He pushes himself off the wall, crushing the still burning end with the heel of his boot, stuffing his hands into pockets, and he's ready to go, but then the back door to the club's pushed open and he can hear Luke's voice, so he stops, turns, eyes narrowing when he sees this fucking _fifty or sixty something_ year old with his arms around Luke's barely clothed body – black skinny jeans that stick like a second skin and a tight tank top that stretches across his toned chest.

The sick fuck slips a hand down the front of Luke's jeans – and that's when Ashton reacts. He tugs at the man's elbow and then he's hitting him square in the nose, making him cry out in pain. Ashton hits him again – the stomach, this time – and he bends forward so Ashton grips him by his hair, making him look at Ashton whilst he's still crouching over in pain.

"Why can't you find someone your own age, you sick fuck?" Ashton asks, shaking his head, and then he's shoving the bloke back and kicking him, just for good measure. "And _fuck off_!" He calls after the piece of shit who's running scared, sans a wallet, because Ashton's managed to swipe it while the fuckwit was running scared. "Dumbass," Ashton mumbles to himself, shaking his head as he opens the bloke's wallet, letting out a low whistle when he catches sight of the rather thick stack of notes in it. "Hemmings, look – " he starts, only to cut himself off when he turns, eyes catching sight of the collapsed and unconscious body, laying on the ground. " _Jesus Christ_. Luke."

Ashton bends down, gently shaking Luke's shoulder, but the kid's proper passed out. Ashton blows out a sigh and then he's taking the cash from the wallet and dumping the wallet itself on the ground, then he's hauling the six-foot-two blond over his shoulder, fireman style. It's a long trek back, but Ashton can't really find it in himself to whine and complain about it.

\- - -

He looks so – peaceful. It's like he's just having a nap or summat, when Ashton really thinks that he's passed out from the drugs that he assumed one of the fuckheads at the club gave to him. Ashton finds himself looking at Luke on his bed – just _looking_. Finds himself almost _enthralled_ by how Luke looks like whilst he's asleep, and he _doesn't know what to do_.

(There's a little voice at the back of his head telling him something that Ashton thinks he doesn't want to ever hear, but Ashton's asking that voice to shut the fuck up, because it can't be true. It _can't_.)

"He okay?" Lauren's voice breaks him out of his reverie, and he darts his eyes over to the doorway, where Lauren's standing in a towel with wet hair, looking at _Ashton_ with more concern than she's looking at Luke. It's like she knows something he doesn't, and he fucking hates that.

Ashton only shrugs his shoulders, bringing the burning cigarette up to his lips and taking a long drag. Lauren opens her mouth, as if about to say something, but seemingly decides against it. All she offers Ashton is a soft smile, a nod, an " _I'll get Harry to sleep in my room tonight, then_ " and then she's walking away and Ashton's too fucking tired to do anything but put his cigarette out and climb onto the bed, next to Luke, and tell himself that it still means nothing as he places a hand on the younger's stomach, gripping the fabric of his tank top loosely in between his fingers.

\- - -

Ashton awakens to the sounds of Black Sabbath at full blast right in his ear, making him jolt up, only to groan when he sees Luke smirking at him. "The _fuck_ do you want, Hemmings?" He spits out, voice croaky and deep and eyes struggling to stay open.

"For you t' get your arse up, obviously." Luke deadpans. "Get up."

" _Fuck off._ "

"Why'd you come looking for me last night?" Luke asks, and Ashton peeks an eye open, yawning as he slowly props himself up on his elbow.

He rubs at his eyes, "Told ya, didn't I? Your family was worried an' my sister was giving me shite."

"Then why'd you bring me back here?" Luke asks again, his tone almost _smug_.

"Well, where the _bloody hell_ was I supposed t' bring you? Bring your drugged up arse back t' your place and get blamed for you passing out from fuckin' drugs even though I had nothin' to do with that shit?" Ashton drawls out sarcastically, scoffing and reaching out for the half-filled beer bottle by his bedside when Luke's eyes dart to the ground and he starts to play with his fingers.

(Ashton feels _something_ tug at him on the inside, but he ignores it.)

"C'mere," Ashton says, setting the bottle down onto the beside table. Luke looks up, peering at the older through his eyelashes and he looks so much younger than his eighteen years. Ashton raises a brow when Luke doesn't make a move to climb onto the bed. "You got no more fuck left in you after that shit last night, or what?" He asks, and then Luke's smirking, climbing onto the bed and man-handling Ashton in a way that Ashton's never allowed _anyone_ , except for fuckin' _Luke Hemmings_.

\- - -

It's strictly sexual – this thing between Ashton and Luke. _Strictly sexual_. Ashton's made it clear plenty of times before and Luke's long accepted it and stopped asking and/or hinting if Ashton actually _liked_ him or not.

But now – as Ashton watches from a distance away – he can't help the _anger_ bubbling in him. This wacky coloured haired dude has his hand slipped into Luke's back pocket and Luke's moved away, but then the dude's hand is going back into his pocket. It's like there's a red haze that forms and then Ashton's acting before he can even _process_ commanding his body to do anything – but he's yanking the dude's hand out of Luke's pocket and spinning him round and landing a solid blow to his nose.

"What _the fuck_ , dude?!" He cries out, hands going to cup his more-than-likely broken nose.

He's got maybe a couple inches on Ashton, but Ashton's bigger. Ashton's got muscles and a glare that could make a grown man unconsciously take a step back. "Fuck. Off." Ashton spits out, and then he's shoving at the dude's shoulder, glaring at him even harder until the dude finally staggers back a couple steps and then turns and walks away, hands still cupping his nose.

"The _fuck's_ your problem, Ashton?!" Luke yells, shoving at Ashton's shoulder from behind.

Ashton staggers forward a step, then he's spinning around. "Why him?!" He blurts out before he can control himself. Luke's eyes widen the slightest bit, but then he's composing himself. But Ashton's already asked, so he goes for it all, anyway, "What does that _fuckwit_ even _offer_ you? He a good fuck?"

"Yeah," Luke says, chin tilted up in defiance. "Yeah, he a good fuck. _He does the fucking_." Luke leans in, says it softly and with a tone of smugness to it.

Ashton shoves at his shoulders, making the younger stagger back, this time. "So what? You his bitch or summat now? _Huh_?!"

Luke shrugs. He fucking _shrugs_. "Maybe," he says, then he's smirking like some smug bastard. "He takes care of me," he shrugs again. "He isn't afraid to kiss me."

And kissing's always been the line that Ashton's drawn. It's always been _no kissing_ ever since they'd started fucking because kissing added a sort of intimacy that Ashton didn't fucking need. But even he can't deny the tug on his insides when Luke says as much, can't deny the fact that he's been _thinking_ about kissing Luke more than once before.

So he does.

He reaches a hand out, fisting Luke's collar of his t-shirt, tugs him in and down to his height, and. He kisses him. _Ashton kisses Luke_. It's simple, clean, no tongue, but it's got Ashton _feeling_ some way, so he pulls back and turns on his heel without even proper looking at the dazed look on the younger's face. He _does_ turn once he's about five meters away, though, and he's met with the sight of Luke standing with a smug grin on his face and hands buried in his pockets.

All Ashton does is raise a middle finger over at him, and he's responded to with a laugh from the blond. (It's a nice laugh.)

\- - -

Ashton's the first one to wake up, and he does so with Luke spooning him. They're both stark naked, the only thing keeping them semi-warm, other than each other's body heat, being the thin blanket thrown over them both. Ashton picks up the bottle of beer on the bedside table, taking a swig from it as he turns so that he's looking at Luke.

It's not fair, he thinks, for someone to be so beautiful whilst asleep. And he wants to fucking kill himself for even thinking shit like that.

A sigh passes through his lips and he's setting the bottle back down to rub at his eyes. He's only just pushed away the blanket covering his bottom half and started to tug on his boxers when he hears Lauren's voice. He perks up, brows furrowing, thinking she's just messing about – but then he actually _hears_ it. She's crying and yelling some inaudible shite, so he tugs on his boxers properly and exits his bedroom.

" _Ash_!" Lauren cries out again, and when she finally comes into view, Ashton's eyes widen at the sight of Harry passed out on the ground, some fucking powder over his face and – holy shit, it's coke. It's fucking _cocaine_. Lauren turns to look at him, still cradling Harry's head. "He got into mum's – fucking _shit_. I don't know what to do, Ash. _What do I do_?!"

"Where's mum?" Ashton asks with furrowed brows, crouching down and feeling for a pulse. There still is one, thank fucking Christ.

"I don't know," comes Lauren's sobbed out reply. "She fucked off somewhere. I don't fucking know."

"Call an ambulance." He basically orders, then he's going back into his bedroom and pulling on clothes as fast as possible, not giving a shit about waking Luke up or telling him what's happened. They're not fucking together, he doesn't need to tell him _shit_.

(But then a part of him's telling him that it'd be so much easier if he were there, if he knew, because they kind of _are_ together, he just doesn't want to admit defeat to that idea just yet.)

Ashton goes back to where Lauren's still got Harry's head cradled in her lap, tears still tracing lines on her cheeks. She looks up when Ashton comes back, sniffling, "They're on the way."

"Come on," is all Ashton says, and then he's scooping up Harry's little body in his arms as he makes his way to the front door. A part of him is yelling at him, telling him to _go get Luke_ but Ashton's doesn't fucking need him. Ashton _doesn't_ fucking _need_ Luke for _anything._

\- - -

Harry's okay. They'd got the drugs out of his system fast enough and they think that there wouldn't be any lasting damage to the ten-year-old, so he's okay. Their mum's nowhere to be seen, gone and fucked off to God knows where, and the two other Irwin siblings are too tired to give a shit about it. Harry's unconscious and he looks so _small_ – with tubes and shit hooked up to his small and skinny body, lying on the hospital bed and dressed in the standardised hospital gown.

Lauren's still got tear tracks on her face, her hand holding onto Harry's smaller one as she gazes at him. Ashton's sitting on the other side of Harry's bed until he gets to his feet, muttering something about needing a smoke, and Lauren's barely acknowledging him as he makes his way out of the room and to the back exit of the hospital.

He makes it one step out, and he's _just_ lit the cigarette when a voice speaks up. "Hey." Ashton glances up, eyes landing on the blond, eyeing him with worry and _pity_ – and Ashton fucking hates it. "Is Harry okay?"

Ashton looks at him, raises an eyebrow, asking the silent question of _how the fuck do you know about that_?

Luke shrugs, "Woke up to the, uh. Sirens. Saw Harry on the – stretcher thing – before they drove off."

Ashton doesn't say anything in response. Just goes to take a seat on this fucking random _wooden crate_ just _there_ – on the ground. He takes another slow drag of his cigarette, letting the nicotine work its way through his lungs. The familiar buzz runs through his body and he feels himself calm down the slightest bit. He hears Luke say something again as he joins Ashton on the crate, but it's faded into a blur of the backing track.

 _Go away, leave me the fuck alone,_ his mind yells as he takes another slow drag of the cigarette still burning in his hand, balanced between his fingers. Luke says something else, maybe asks him a question, but Ashton doesn't answer him. The younger must take his silence as a request for him to go away (which it kind of was) for he makes a move to get up, to leave, but then Ashton's opening his mouth and saying " _stay_ " like he'd meant that all along.

And Luke stays. Ashton barely gives him a side-glance, passing the still-burning cigarette over to him. The blond takes it, taking a slow drag and then exhaling slowly. Neither of them make a move to say anything, nor do they even try to look at each other, but Ashton thinks that although he fancies being alone, he wouldn't mind _being alone_ with Luke so much.

(And maybe he realises then that he _does_ need Luke, not that the younger boy – or _anyone_ , really – will ever get him to admit it out loud.)


End file.
